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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27383146">Revenant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Alley_Walk'>Alley_Walk (AlleyWalk_writes)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Death and Rebirth, F/F, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, No Aura, Pre-Canon, Semblances still exist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:13:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27383146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Alley_Walk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Blake, what happened back there?” Ilia hissed. “The whole place was coming down, no way even your Semblance could have gotten you outta there.” Then, “I thought you were dead, you idiot!”</p><p>Is it even possible, to come back from the dead?</p><p>.</p><p>Pyrrha suddenly felt as if she were not alone. Above her stood an angel. Though he had no wings, she knew, with complete certainty, that he was dead, and that soon, she would be as well.</p><p>The angel sighed. <i>Do you want to live?</i></p><p>Pyrrha coughed. “Y-Yes.”</p><p>
  <i>Then take my hand.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Jaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Revenant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>rev·e·nant</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>/ˈrevənənt,ˈˌrevəˈˌnänt/</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>a person who has returned, especially supposedly from the dead.</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>March 12th, XX10</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha could hear the screams of the crowd outside her waiting room as the tournament round before her no doubt came to a bloody end. She couldn’t help but smile, despite her nervous anticipation. At fourteen years old, Pyrrha has been through her fair share of tournaments. And this tournament was no different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Rumble Tournaments have healing Semblances on staff, which lets them be a bit more… creative with their rules than they could have been otherwise. Namely, injuries were allowed and expected, and the person who dropped the other for ten seconds was the victor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha planned on being that person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door to her room opened. “Alright, Miss Nikos, you’re up!” The woman at the door said with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha smiled back. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha stepped out onto the tournament grounds. Tall bleachers shining with varnish circled the stage, swarming with throngs of people that screamed her name. Sand dunes rose and fell, stretching out all across the stage, and as Pyrrha stepped up onto her platform, grit blew against her bare shoulders. She looked across to the divide to size up her opponent. He was a large man, with assessing eyes and a spear that ended in two sharp points. Slow, perhaps. Though heavily armoured, like herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A commentator’s box stood above them, and began, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hellooo, ladies and gentlemen! And others, whomever you might be. Representing, Umber Knight, from Atlas, and Pyrrha Nikos, the Priiide of Miistral!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Pyrr-ha! Pyrr-ha! Pyrr-ha!” The crowd cheered. Her opponent stared at her with baleful eyes, and Pyrrha flushed. She hated this. They weren’t even cheering for her, really. They were cheering for their idea of her, what they saw as the winning side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha took a deep breath. She smiled at her opponent. “Good luck to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man scoffed. “Yeah, sure thing, princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Match, begin!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha was off like a shot, her legs pumping against the tough terrain as she fired two rounds from Miló, bearing Akoúo on her forearm. Umber ducked and rolled to the side, kicking up sand in his wake. The big man popped to his feet, his weight causing him to sink into the sand dune beneath him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha pressed forward, taking cover behind a sand dune, grit sweat sticky on her skin. She lifted up to fire, the shot ringing in her ears. Umber jumped to the side, left foot sinking slightly into the sand as the shot scored a red trail through his side. Blood bubbled and welled from the wound, and Pyrrha felt sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head at herself inwardly, standing to her feet and grabbing Akoúo and sending it winging through the air towards her opponent, banishing the thought. Umber took Akoúo right to the stomach and kept going, launching his spear right towards her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha reached out a hand and extended her senses outwards. But there was no metal inside this weapon. She spun to the side, tripping to bang her side into the sand dune, sinking into it. Then the spear sunk deep into her armpit, breaking off at the hilt. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A terrain distraction, a beginner’s mistake.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thought. She wasn’t sure when she had gotten to be lying on the ground, and yet she was. There was a comforting warmth pooling all around her, slowly spreading. She felt very cold, suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ohh, this isn’t looking good, folks!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She thought she heard, as if from very far away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call the match, already!” A voice said. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Let’s call the countdown, folks!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“10…! 9…!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha suddenly felt as if she were not alone. She peered up, and above her, stood an angel. He had long dark hair, and icy blue eyes. Though he had no wings, she knew, with complete certainty, that he was dead, and that soon, she would be as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Do you want to live?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha coughed. “Y-Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then take my hand.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha reached up with all her strength to grasp his hand in hers. It somehow didn’t seem as hard as it should have been. He pulled on her hand, but instead of pulling her up, he pulled himself in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warmth flushed through Pyrrha, chasing the cold from her veins. Power pulsed through her in time with her heartbeat, and she got to her feet, as easily as breathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“3…! 2…! Pyrrha Nikos stands!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Pyrrha grabbed Milós from the ground and leapt forward, legs pumping against the sand. Her blood sang in her veins, and she laughed when Umber unholstered an automatic revolver, laughed when three of the bullets hit her dead on. Her vision fractured, sharpening to focus on the threat. The next shot she ducked under with a roll, sand cascading in her wake. She popped up in front of her opponent and kicked the gun from his hand, changing Milós into a javelin and spearing him in the stomach. She leapt on top of his body as he fell and rode him to the ground as he slid down to the sandy floor below. She waited for the countdown to start, heartbeat slowing, as Umber’s blood stained the sand beneath her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“... 3…! 2…! 1…! The round is over! There you have it, folks, Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd’s applause roared in Pyrrha’s ears, and as she stepped off of her opponent and let the medics lead her away, she opened her hand to see the dirt encrusted blood on her palm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was that even real?</span>
  </em>
  
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